So as you know I have been hesitating on whether to comment on poems or whether to leave them to their own devices.  On the one side is the risk of over-explanation (see ‘on leaving things unsaid‘), on the other is my memory of my sixth form project on metaphysical poetry where the explanations of teacher unlocked meaning and allowed me to take part in the poem in a way I would never have done otherwise.

A reader commented about the London found poem that ‘I don’t understand it but of course understanding isn’t a valid expectation to have’, and this has been resonating in the echo chamber of my mind ever since.  Is it true?  I think understanding is a wonderful thing to have.  Understanding brings illumination, and even though it will always be partial, this brings a powerful sense of connection, and warmth and excitement.

So here I am going to put a little bit about what the poem revealed to me, and why the things I saw in London on that adventure turned out to be in the poem.  Of course, my own understanding is only partial, but maybe it will provide some interesting light.  I will also show where I have changed the poem (in two places) since I originally posted it.

So first of all, I don’t have any agenda in the found poem discovery process.  All I do is be on the alert during my time in the city for fragments of text which stand out for some reason.  Then, when I get home, I let them all sit around until they form themselves into verses.  To be honest, I didn’t really think that the things I’d seen that day in London made a poem.  I felt a bit disappointed and I almost didn’t even embark on the discovery process.  But once I’d written out the bits of text (recorded on my camera), unexpected connections started to emerge.

What struck me straight away is that there is a theme of restlessness, and design, and home.  The theme of design is not a surprise because I was at the design museum, but what came together is the idea for me that our lives are our homes, and that we have a role to play in designing our life-homes.

From this, the verses started to sing to each other.  The first question unsettles us as to whether we have become stuck in a rut.  And then the answers also have that fretful quality.  I have now changed lines three and four around, as I realised that the ‘sheer frustration’ line is an answer to the companion line.

I then loved the mix of very everyday imagery (about the pencils), the idea of story versus limited options, the challenge of designing a home and the emotional power of that, and the fact that are homes-lives are also kinds of monuments of what we value, and the powerful question as to what others might make of our choices.

I was a bit hesitant about allowing the Charity text fragment into the poem; it felt a bit out of place.  But I also quite like the out-of-place things intruding.  Out-of-place things can put the mind into an interesting state of trying to discover a meaning.  So in time this stanza has made me dig.  The meaning that has arisen for me is that it links to our own possible poverty (of meaning, of aspiration) in our lives, and how that allows a dynamic where we need charity (also an old word for love) to connect us to abundance.

The poem then connects the idea of home and meaningfulness to belonging, which is expressed through the words about membership and uniting.  Our actions to address our inner restlessness may also need hard work (engine rooms), courage (bold moves), and experimentation (hop on hop off).  In these verses, the work of life-design is taking shape.

I also hesitated over and then relished the inclusion of the reference to the story of our fall from grace, because it also helps to point to where we may have sewed flimsy ‘clothes’ to cover up the nakedness we feel in our lives.  This question cannot be neatly tidied away, so it leaves a lasting vulnerability within the poem itself.

Before the poem closes, there is an appeal not to lose sight of children in our life designs.  Children embody our shared vulnerability, and this appeal then also calls us not to create lives that fail to acknowledge this.

The close then returns to mystery, to happenstance, along with searching and intentionality, which resonates back to the idea of design.  The first line is lived intensely in the present, emphasising the continuity of the process of life-home creation.  The second line evokes total commitment.

Originally the poem ended with the exhortation ‘Go to it’, but on reflection, it feels too heavy handed to address the reader in this way.  So this has been edited out, and instead the reader can identify with the speaker in the last lines.  Here the ‘you’ is less direct, and the reader then has more freedom to choose to join the speaker in the exploration of ‘everything’.

Since I have understood the poem in this way myself, I have enjoyed the sensation of life-homes being created, amended and adapted, of the importance of our vulnerability and the joy of a ‘hop on hop off’ approach to experimenting with new hobbies, ideas, reading, and so on.  I continue to enjoy the challenge of the first line, which reminds me to keep adventuring, to be brave to explore new things, and to be alert to places where my life-home habits and routines become confining.